


Brothers and Sisters

by kangeiko



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Apocalypse, Character of Color, F/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-06
Updated: 2007-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post!apocalyptic fic. Dexter fetches dinner. Doakes has issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers and Sisters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeadeuce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeadeuce/gifts).



  
Deb knows precisely what Doakes thinks of her brother. Not that it's particularly hard to figure it out - Doakes isn't being subtle about it - but she's still surprised at how much it pisses her off. Especially given what's been going on lately. God, the apocalypse has come fucking knocking, and would it _kill_ Doakes to not be such an asshole sometimes?

"I didn't promise to make friends," Doakes tells her brusquely when she tries to bring it up, subtle-like. "There's something wrong with him, Deb. I'm not going to do anything, for your sake, but I'm not gonna pretend, either."

"That 'wrong' is what's been keeping us fed, you fucker. You could at least be _polite_ to him!" She shouts, her voice starting out a lot unsteadier than she meant it to. She takes a step forward, her arm raised - in anger? In defence? - and is stumbling at the first step; too long without sleep sending her vision hard and prickly around the edges. "You could be _grateful_ for what he's done for us -"

"I am," Doakes says, reaching out and catching her by the elbows, as if by reflex. After a moment, he pulls her in, folding his arms around her. "I am, Deb, Christ," he says into her hair.

There's a long silence. Deb counts out patience in round numbers, like stacking building blocks in her head, her hands clenching and unclenching around handfuls of Doakes's sweatshirt.

"You know," Dexter says eventually, "I'm standing right here." He's still standing in the doorway - the door safely barred - holding a paper bag with _Home of the Big Mac!_ stamped across it. There's a splash of something red across the brown paper, spreading out across the _Mac!_ so that only the exclamation mark was really visible. "I brought dinner," Dexter says, and sets his discovery down on the table. "It's not really Big Macs, of course, but maybe - the next best thing?"

He's tearing the bag open and displaying his bounty - three carrots and two potatoes - as if they're a work of art. "Aren't they beautiful?" He asks, smiling down at them fondly as if they were haute cuisine. "There's no pesticides on them or anything - these are genuine home-grown all-American vegetables."

The left-hand potato has a bit of the reddish-brown stuff on it.

Dexter catches Doakes staring and shifts a little, as if uncomfortable. Hah! Like that freak would be remotely embarrassed about what he did out there; he just hated to have to explain it to his sister, is all.

"Ah," Dexter says, mildly. "That would be from the bag. Don't worry, I'll get some water to wash them-" He's reaching out again, bending over the table to gather to him, his t-shirt riding up to expose tanned skin and the flat blade of the knife strapped to it.

"No," Deb says, and pulls free from Doakes. Her eyes are bright and brittle, like little glass beads, as she gathers up the vegetables. "I'll do it." She slides an arm around Dexter's waist, grabbing the handle of the knife tucked into his waistband and easing it free. "This, too."

Head held high, she takes both the bloodied food and its price into the other room to draw some water.

*

fin


End file.
